


2 a.m.

by uschickens



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uschickens/pseuds/uschickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if JC called AJ for a ride home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 a.m.

AJ breathed, concentrating on the feeling of the tiny hairs in his nose moving with each breath. He paid attention to the slight difference of the temperature of the air after it had been warmed by his body. He drew each breath deep into his belly, as if he were getting ready to run scales. He hissed the air out through his noise, biting his lip too hard to open his mouth.

When the phone rang the first time, he ignored it. He just matched his breathing to its tinny jangle. When it stopped, he held his breath, waiting for the beep of a new voicemail, but it never came. He huffed a breath out, startled, as his phone started wailing "heeeeeey macarena" all over again.

This time he grabbed it to silence it mid-ring, solemnly vowing never to leave Nick alone in the same room as his phone ever again. He propped his elbows on his knees and curled around the phone cupped in his hands. He tapped a beat out against the phone, the heavy clink of his silver rings against the phone case somehow satisfying. He snorted when he found his fingers dancing to the beat of the macarena chorus. He stilled his fingers and waited. Somewhere in the last two years, he had learned patience. Years before that, though, he had learned his bandmates.

Sure enough, the screen of his phone began flashing red and green. He hesitated long enough to exhale twice then flipped open the phone, not bothering to check caller ID.

"What?" he snapped.

"Hey, man!" JC drawled over a hubbub of throbbing bass and mashed conversation.

AJ's eyebrows shot up, and he flipped his phone over. Sure enough, the screen read Esther Williams. He put the phone back to his ear.

"Man, do you know who you called?" AJ asked, sinking back into his couch. This was not his night.

"AJ! Alexander James, my fine tattooed friend, the man with no fear of needles, my compadre who-" JC broke off in a garble of static and party noise. AJ tapped into that patience again. The noise level through the phone dropped considerably, and JC returned. "How you doin'?"

AJ sighed. "What do you want, Chasez?" He'd not talked to JC on the phone since, well, not for at least six months.

"Oh, cat! Cat, there is this wicked party tonight. Shannon always throws the tightest bash, man. Did you know that Fergie has braids now? She's, like, a little Dutch Maid. She's even got the shorts. I wonder if she would wear lederhosen. Do you think if I asked nicely she-"

AJ set the phone down, JC still going full force. He knew JC's patterns. He padded into his kitchen, expensively tasteful tile cold on his bare feet. He tugged his jeans lower and tucked his feet into the dragging, frayed cuffs as he stared into his fridge. It was well-stocked, but it felt painfully, conspicuously empty.

When he picked up the phone again, back on the couch and with the entire carton of orange-pineapple-banana-strawberry-whatever juice in hand, JC was still chattering away. "-and I said no. fucking. way., but he had! He showed me the receipt, and Visa doesn't lie."

"JC," AJ broke in, and JC went quiet. "What do you want?"

"Oh, yeah!" JC brightened audibly. "Cat, you're missing this party. Why are you missing this party? It's right around the corner from you. I've been asking for you. I've been asking for you." JC sounded forlorn, and AJ almost believed him.

"The party at Shannon's?" AJ didn't need to see JC's nod. "Between my house and Shannon's, if you drive direct, there are six liquor stores, eight bars, and five gas stations that sell beer. If I remember Shannon's place right, she's got two full bar kits, one in the basement den and one out by the pool. She's also got a wine cooler in the kitchen and wine cabinent in the dining room. She keeps beer in the fridge in her movie room and cooking sherry in the third cabinent to the right of her stove. If her regular crew is there, Ramon is dealing blow out of her downstairs guest bathroom that is painted blue, and Jenni's up in Shannon's shoe closet with her entire fucking stash. I know all that, and that is why I'm not there." He drank straight from the carton, the cardboard spout soggy in his mouth. The bite of the citrus made his throat tight. "Plus there's a Die Hard marathon on TNT. Any other questions?"

JC was quiet for a moment, then said, "Man, you're good. I just saw Jenni go upstairs with four little modelettes trailing her like baby ducks."

AJ smiled until his face ached. "No, I'm an alcoholic." Four years since he had first said it, and that word still cut his tongue. Still, he had learned to fake it, and the last decade had taught him that if he faked something long enough, it usually became real. He clung to that grimly.

"Yeah, I know, man," JC said, unexpectedly serious. "I think that's why I called originally. Listen, can you drive me home?"

AJ barked a laugh. "Chasez, you're shitting me."

"No, no! I mean it." JC was all earnestness and eagerness. "See, you're the only person who I know who I'm absolutely sure is sober tonight and who I trust to drive my car."

AJ nearly snorked orange-whatever juice out his nose. "You mean you want me to drive my car over to Shannon's, leave it there with God knows who running around, and drive you home in your car so your car doesn't get trashed?"

JC was affronted. "No, I thought you'd take a cab over here. I'd even pay for it. Then you could drive me home."

"Don't you, you know, pay people to do this shit?"

JC dropped his voice. "Yeah, man, but I don't trust them with this car. Have you seen her?"

AJ rolled his eyes. He recognized this JC. Someone had been fool enough to give him pot after he had been drinking - rum, probably, given his giddiness - which always made him crazy paranoid. "Give me one good reason."

"Because I asked you nicely?" JC wheedled, a laugh dancing behind his words. "Because youre the only one I trust to do this? Please? As a favor?"

AJ closed his eyes for a heartbeat, remembering his last exchange of favors with JC - JC spread out long and lean in AJ's bed, his tongue running up AJ's arm, tracing out each line of his tattoos, JC's laughter hot in his ear, JC arching up beneath him, laughter gone and face twisted almost unrecognizable by need, JC vibrating beneath his hands and feeling his rings head up from the warmth of JC's body. Yes, AJ remembered JC's favor.

AJ had picked up his car keys when he was in the kitchen. He had known he would say yes before JC ever asked. "Meet me out front in half an hour."

He drove himself over in his bodyguard-approved stealth car - a 1994 Honda Civic with no front bumper and only three hubcaps. He left it parked in Nick's driveway, three blocks over from Shannon's. All of the lights at Nick's were off, and AJ spared the briefest moment wondering what he was up to. He knew he could call Howie and find out everythig, though, so he didn't worry one way or the other. So he went right back to bitching at JC in his head. This had kept him so occupied on the drive over that he hadn't even thought about not thinking about the litany of reasons he had given JC for not leaving his house. The list that had so occupied his thoughts all night that he had retreated to his couch, thinking about just breathing to avoid thinking about anything else, didn't even ping his mental radar.

JC was waiting for him in the driveway, back pointedly turned to the valets and the direction from which AJ walked up. From the lights of the house, AJ could see where JC's jeans had slipped down and his almost indecently tight shirt had ridden up, revealing a strip of skin. He did not imagine putting his hand against that skin and feeling JC suck in a deep breath. He saw the light glint, just a little, off the dull metal stude on the black leather wrapped around JC's wrists. He did not imagine sticking two fingers beneath each cuff, rubbing his fingers aginst the warm leather has he hauled JC's arms over his head, making his shirt ride up even further. No, he didn't. Instead he tapped JC on the shoulder.

JC turned and clutched his shoulders in greeting. "AJ! Man, am I glad to see you. Thanks for coming. They-" he cocked his head at the valets "-won't bring my car around for me." AJ plucked JC's hands off his chest, as JC had not let go after his initial squeeze but had instead started to pet AJ like he was a cat in danger of stalking off. Color ran high in JC's cheeks, and even his painted-on shirt managed to look rumpled.

"That's because Shannon hires good people. I'll get your car." JC beamed at him. AJ pretended he was breathing normally. He approached the nearest valet and flicked a thumb back at JC, who had wrapped his arms around himself and was shivering in the almost sultry warmth of the spring night. "I'm driving him home. Can you bring Mr. Chasez's car around?"

The valet eyed him, and AJ just raised an eyebrow. "Right away."

AJ walked back to stand with JC, who curved his body around him. "This way you're blocking the wind," he explained. AJ sighed but didn't say anything.

He whistled sharply when JC's car was pulled up. "Fucker, I take it all back. You'd be a fool to leave her here. Why'd you drive her over here in the first place?"

JC smiled, eyes soft as he looked at AJ, not the car. "I thought you'd like her." She was an impeccably restored 1971 Mustang convertible with rally wheels. Her glossy black finish gleamed in the not-quite-dark of the night. AJ knew that he would find her perfectly tuned, with a liquid smooth clutch and a motor whose purr he would feel through the entire car.

"Get in," he said, grinning for the first time that night. "We're taking the long way home."

"I'll put the top down." JC cackled with glee. Even when the wind picked up as AJ accelerated hard out of the curves, he never shivered again.

As AJ upshifted onto the freeway, caressing the gearshift like a greedy lover, JC's left hand crept on little cat feet onto AJ's upper thigh. Although AJ didn't look over at him, he could see JC's lips curve into a grin when he didn't take JC's hand away. Out where the suburbs petered out into the desert, AJ stopped the car and tasted each curve and dip of that grin. JC crawled into the back seat and beckoned him with wet lips and dark eyes. He did not let AJ more than briefly notice that he tasted of coffee and too much sugar, not liquor and weed. Out beyond the streetlights, JC's skin was creamy pale in the moonlight, with AJ's tattoos dark as shadows pressed up against him. AJ let JC breathe for him.

Later, when AJ pulled into JC's driveay, JC took the keyring and pulled off his house keys. He pressed the car keys back into AJ's hand. "Bring her and you back to me tomorrow, hey?" He kissed AJ, quick and dirty, one more time, then sauntered to his front door, hitching his pants up with one hand. He grinned at AJ once more before he slipped into the darkness of his house, and AJ forgot to breathe.

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